Arts in Ice and Fire
by EmiyaSwordKing
Summary: A man from An Alien Invasion is reincarnated into Westros. Weary of Conflict, he will use his knowledge of Arts and Music to heal the people of the Game of Thrones. Rated M just to be safe. X-over elements. Pairings undecided


Chapter 1 The Start of the Song

World war 3 ended in a burst of fire. It rained down from the sky, the petals of a thousand flowers signifying the end of Kyoto, of Japan, of humanity. Nuclear fire. It tore the skies and buildings asunder and drove us, the last soldiers of humanity, into our graves. I ran, my only friend-only surviving friend that is- trailing behind me, meteors of scrap metal screeching its deathly echoes as they fell towards the ground. The screams of the dying reverberated around the dark enclosed space of the earth. It was like the first scene of _Fate/stay night, _the protagonist weaving his way out of hell heedless of the cries of the injured and dying, the cursed fire killing all the it struck.  
"Onwards men!" I bellowed, voice hoarse from the searing heat, "let's kill those alien mother*****s!"

I suddenly turned, memories overwhelming me temporarily, and looked each of my comrades in the eye. "My friends-no my family. Tonight, it's likely to be our last night. Maybe even humanity's last night on this planet. I ask of you all. Will you stand by me again? Will you trust me to lead us all into battle?"

Hachiman, my lieutenant stood, "yes! We have followed you since Istanbul. We'll follow to the depth of hell if need be. Even if we're all going to die on this day, let's do it with dignity. Let's show those f******* what it is to be human!"

I smiled, "thanks 8. Then follow me, brothers! This is the last battle in human history!"

W cheered, for perhaps the last time in human history and rushed forward. It was useless, I knew. What use were our swords and combat knives where our rifles had failed? When our artillery had failed to penetrate. But we rushed onwards, our blades humming the last glorious song of humanity towards the swarm of fighters. And we died, one by one. There was no escape, we knew. The aliens were going to slaughter us all, down to the last man, woman and child; and we knew. My katana finally sliced a fighter, and I felt something in my chest. Wait, I meant nothing. There was no more chest, it was a giant hole. It was an interesting experience, missing a chest. I suppose it was fitting an eye for an eye, a sword for a ship.

My sword in hand, I fell. The sky was lit up in streaks of red, and, beyond the circles of the world, I could just see the stars, glimmering, shining without care for earthlings. They, up in the air, reflected the trials and hardships and extinction of humanity. I wonder if someone will see the history of the earth, riding upon those ancient rays of light. Perhaps they will rewind the clock and see the rise and fall of human civilisation and perhaps, someday, someone will kill those alien f***** and avenge human civilisation where we could not.

Flashback

_But it was of no matter. I was dying. It had been a good life. Albeit dull and unfair. I was your average high schooler, studying hard, too nervous to ever ask a girl out, just good enough to have a decent job, scraping out a meagre living in the desolate world of New York. But I was content. And then they came. The Elder Race they called themselves, the 'Elves'. They came down in their great fleets of a thousand ships bathed in fire and crackling with malice. They sank through the atmosphere, their fiery ships raining hell onto defenceless cities. Tokyo, Washington, Beijing, it made no difference. Satan came for all their souls that day. It was the beginning of the end._

_There was barely any resistance. Certainly not the grand operations that humanity had dreamed of in the golden age of the Earth. We didn't have much of a space fleet. What we had was out gunned and, to put it simply, FUBAR. And so we fought. Under the banner of the UN, it was the first and last time all of humanity fought under one banner. Sure there were one or two fanatics raving about the Elder as f******* gods but they didn't last long. No gods would kill millions of humans and leave their entrails on pikes for birds to feed._

_The situation worsened after that. Apparently guns were no use against them. They could literally regenerate in their ship as long as there was half of it remaining. So we had to rely on bloody swords and artillery to blow them out of their f****** sky. We didn't have energy weapons. We didn't have alien technology to reverse-engineer. But we had our fiery will. _

_Bah! What has will ever done for us except lead good men to their graves. We were lambs to the slaughter, in every city. We lost ground one by one, inch by inch. Yeah right, more like kilometre by kilometre. There wasn't a fight. There was a slaughter. One hit of their cannons and half the humans died. Two cannons and bye bye city. So I joined the army, there was nothing else to do except fighting anyway. It was the only, albeit weak, way of giving the Elder the middle finger. There, in the army I met my real friends and second family. Hachiman, Sieg, Luke, Raj, Steve. Everyone else had already died, blown up in the cities. I envied them sometimes, having left the earthly realm, being free of all troubles and ailments, without having to live in constant fear of the days ahead. For no one feared death any longer. It was sweet release from the duty we owed to humanity._

_ And the war continued and cities and humans fell. The Elder killed everyone, blew up every building and food supply. Until now, when it's all gone. With my soul drifting out of my body, I watched helpless, as my friends and family went and killed themselves, fighting to the last breath. I guess this war had taught me things. Many things far beyond how to shoot a gun. It taught me the value of life, the effect of kindness and always to help others. It rekindled the intrinsic want in all of us to be a hero. Just like Shirou Emiya had. A hero of justice. _

_Maybe in my next life I could go and save people. As many as I can._

Flashback End

Back on Earth, the last few soldiers of humanity pushed onwards, each taking a fighter down until the ground was drowned in bright red blood. The dead littered the ground, piling up in a heap of dead or dying. And as the last human fell, Alaya let out a screech and was gone, the collective will of humanity smouldering with the remnants of her people. There had been no help from Gaia. Humanity had done too much harm to her ancient soil to be ever considered one of her children again. And so the saga of the human race finished, and in that moment, the earth was reborn.

But I was privy to none of this. I was already far gone from the realms of men. A pleasant wind rustled through the greenery. I felt it caressing my face, restoring the colour that had been lost through years of war, a wind that I had seldom felt as well as the hot sun warming my frozen features slowly. My eyes were open, taking in all that could be taken in of this heaven, of this perfection. No doubt this would not be most people's perception of paradise, most would have considered somewhere with unlimited resources in games and food. Of course, that was before the war that had ravaged the land. Nowadays, everyone would have given their own soul to be apart of this place, this untouched garden of Eden surrounded by wasteland. A utopia like this, even before the war, would have been hard to find.

I rose from my feet, feeling better than I had in years. I felt reforged, renewed from my experiences, my injuries and ills. My body felt as if it could run a thousand miles without pause. But I didn't have a body anymore did I? Memories trickled in through me. The final charge, the suicide run and death. Of course, I'm dead. Nowhere on earth, in the past present or future, would ever surpass this idyllic scene. And only here could my soul feel so free, so unrestrained by the circles of this world. Is this the afterlife?

"Hello? Anyone here?" I didn't really care if anyone was here. Living in isolation from other humans in the army tended to do that to you. You get used to the loneliness and the lack of humans, especially when most of us have been slaughtered. Just when I thought that heaven was an empty garden, a voice rang from the bushes.

" Hello, young hero," a woman materialised from the bushes, her hair golden and her features inhumanly beautiful and inhumanly graceful. "Come walk with me, there is much you need to learn before you depart."

And so I followed, the trees around me waving in intricate patterns and the gravel underfoot crunching regularly.

"So where exactly am I? I would say heaven, but I'm not sure I'm that virtuous, and you don't look like a god and-" I rapidly questioned her, the importance of information having been driven into me through years of experience. Although perhaps it's my antisocial side showing through. My lack of human interaction except for close friends for the last few years.

"Peace, young one, as for your questions, this is Avalon the land of the fae. Or at least it had been 3000 years ago before the age of the gods had finished. Now, after a random holy grail war, it's become the throne of heroes, where humanities' greatest legends are stored."

"But everyone's dead, how can I be a legend when there is no one to remember me? When all I did was fight in a pointless war and failed to save anyone?" I screamed, stoically standing in the garden, my back to her. I had lost far too many tears to be crying now. It would be dishonouring the death of all soldiers in war. She gazed at me, eyes filled with empathy, "I am a fae, the last of the fae folk. I alone remain as my peoples all had faded. No songs are denoting the mighty deeds of the fae, but we are still here, we are still legends somewhere across the wide multiverse."

"Whatever, so what now?" I asked, bored with the conversation.

"So, we, Avalon is essentially like Alaya's counter guardian program. Except we chuck our heroes into worlds which need saving and they will do the rest. They also stay there for their whole life and can decide whether they want to pass on or not. Essentially, we are Alaya with an employee rights system, capiche?"

I weighed up the pros and cons. Honestly, there wasn't much competition. Die or get reborn. In the end, of course, I chose rebirth.

"Excellent!" She beamed at me, in a manner incongruous with the stern look she was going for. "So I'm allowed to give you 2 boons, three which I can actually grant so none of that reality-warping s*** gamer system or infinite mana. But then you're a hero, and they just ask for an awesome sword or something. So what do ya want?"

I thought about this. It was hard, as much as I wanted something super-powerful and op like Saitama, I knew that I 'll never get recognised as a true hero. A true hero is one who endures, one who bears the burden of the whole world on his shoulders. And besides, violence is never the answer; my years getting beat up by the Elder had taught me that. Sure the Elder had ridiculous powers but did that make them happy? Or a hero? No.

So what is a gift that can grant peace, not a weapon for hate only breeds hate, festering it deep within its womb until all of one's humanity is lost. Godly powers won't do the trick either, once I'm dead the people will start warring again, making the peace short-living and wrong. And I'd rather not fight any. I'm sick and tired of war. So there's only one thing for me.

"I wish for all the information of my old world about the arts. I will use art and music to spread peace through whatever universe you're sending me to. I will achieve utopia on this universe, I swear this on my blood and my honour."

"That's an admirable dream," she smiled, "And what else?"

"Discernment of the Poor of the heroic spirit Karna."

She snapped her fingers, "done."

My jaws dropped, I mean it's not every day that somebody just gave you presents that anybody would pretty much kill for, including a page on the universe's Wikipedia. Wait, how can a fae have that much power? Correct me if I'm wrong, but a fae does not have authority to access the akashic records nor grant wishes.

She smirked at me, seemingly amused at my train of thought. I realised belatedly that she could probably read minds. I mean the akashic records are probably harder to read than an unprotected mind. "Bye! And by the way, my name is Goddess Rhongomyniad!"

I cursed as I was shunted through a wormhole into some random woman's womb. This was not shaping up to be a good death day. First I died and then I met the goddess who did that Holy Selection thing. I couldn't remember exactly what that was but I seemed to recall a lot of deaths.

"Huh, he's certainly… unique," a man muttered, materialising from the shadows. He was clad in a red coat with steely grey eyes and white hair spiked up in a classic anime style look.

"Seriously? I thought he reminded me of you, ya know? Back when you still had that saving people thing going on, trolling him was so fun!" the divine spirit of Arturia said, "but whatever, you wanna watch his adventures in that TV Zelretch gave us?"

The man chuckled, "Oh yes, it'll be fun seeing what my old ideals could achieve. Get some popcorn, would you, dear wife?"


End file.
